System 7 - System 7 (Original TC Review)

10 Records: 1991

(2015 Update:
I've still yet to take the plunge into System 7's full discography. Shame on me. There's no reason I shouldn't have by now, especially with so much online streaming available at my whim. Maybe that should be a New Year's resolution, to finally take in the entirety of Steve Hillage and Miquette Giraudy, and all their quarter-century of System 7ing. It's not like I expect some wild, unfortunate genre experiments along the way, the duo essentially sticking to their psychedelic trance, prog- rock jamborees through the years (decades!). If anything, their debut remains the least System 7y thing they ever System 7'd.

This review isn't as cynical as I remember, though why I had to get my hate on with the accordion, I don't recall. No wait, I was still feeding off the backlash of Samin's Heater, that's why. I suppose I couldn't help but let my Gen-X jadedness get the better of me too, snickering at such earnest lyrics. Funny how a few extra years of added wisdom has mellowed my stance on them now. That is wisdom I feel now, right? Maybe just gas.)


IN BRIEF: A prog rocker gets chummy with dance culture.

Probably the last name you’d expect to have a trendy club hit in this year of 2008 would be Steve Hillage’s System 7 project. Although he and Miquette Giraudy have long been respected figures within dance music, their tendency to skew towards the psychedelic side of the electronic spectrum hasn’t earned them the spotlight since that style’s mid-90s heyday. Yet along comes Mr. Minimal-Marmite-Man Dubfire with one of his remixes, and propels the latest System 7 single Song Bird high into some of the more hip dance charts out there.

Such seems to be the story of Hillage’s career. It isn’t so much you’d expect him to fade into obscurity, but for all intents and purposes one would assume his contemporary relevance should. After nearly two decades as a prog rock guitarist, Hillage discovered acid house when Alex Paterson of The Orb fame discovered him. System 7 is born soon afterwards, gained a plethora of fans amongst the early goa-trance scene, became a fixture at Glastonbury’s dance tent, and just when you’d think this project has slipped away into irrelevancy, it’s thrust once again into the presence of another generation of party-goers. Perhaps that hippie attitude has provided Hillage with plenty of good karma after-all. Where he goes from here is anyone’s guess, but even if this recent mini-thrust back into the spotlight is to be his last, Hillage has done plenty in his career to deserve such good will.

Really, I don’t think anyone would have expected Hillage to be a fixture within dance music culture for so long given the rather unique plunge System 7 first took. This self-titled 1991 debut is a strange relic of its time, where scene networking could yield powerhouse collaborations of the sort found on here. Along with Dr. Paterson, you have Hillage working with techno-don Derrick May, at-the-time ace-producer Paul Oakenfold, Steve Waddington of The Beloved fame (remember them?), and Martin Glover (Youth) just on this album alone (the System 7 moniker would go on to include work with Laurent Garnier, Juno Reactor, Carl Craig, Greg Hunter, Drum Club, and recently Jam el Mar and Eat Static - whew, but is this ever a namedrop session). Yet, because System 7's concept was more about Hillage’s forays into dance music, the idea of this being some kind of electronic music supergroup was never really considered.

Nowadays, this album has mostly faded from the collective clubbing consciousness for various reasons. For one thing, it remains the only album that hasn’t been re-issued on Hillage’s new A-Wave label, although legal complications with the distributors - UK-based Ten and American-based Caroline (whom had to change the group’s name to 777 over other legal complications) - may have something to do with that. Primarily, though, it tends to be neglected since it bears little resemblance to the sort of music the project would go on to be known for.

And just what kind of music is on here? If you’re familiar with Stereo MC’s, that’ll give you a starting point, because another thing that easily dates System 7 to the early 90s is the incredibly liberal melting pot of genres on offer. There’s house, techno, ambient, soul, breaks, prog, pop, and even hints of psychedelia. With so many different influences contributing, there was no possible way a cohesive style would dominate throughout. Heck, where does one even start when describing what these songs sound like? How about the material that isn’t dated?

The Derrick May pairings easily sound fresh even today. Thumping techno cut Altitude remains superb, with Listen and ambient-intermission Fractal Liason finding the Detroit native’s futuristic touch working wonders with Hillage’s spacey guitar work; any of these offerings could hold their own in a modern-day set. Meanwhile, Alex Paterson’s ambient house specialty can be felt on Sunburst, along with his studio wizardry in Dog, coda-like follow-up Thunderdog, and the straight-forward club-cut Miracle (where Oakenfold lends his talents as well). The production on these is quite remarkable too, where it seldom feels like you’re being fed simple dance loops. There be practiced musicians in them studios, my friends, with arrangements that make ample use of their experienced song-writing skills.

On the other hand, the vocal songs are way early 90s. Whether it be Aniff Cousins’ contemplative raps (think a proto-Maxi Jazz) or Olu Rowe’s soulful singing, their themes remain constant. Freedom Fighters, Habibi, Bon Humeur, Dog, and Strange Quotations all feature lyrics that feed off the “good times are coming” attitude that was prevalent in much of the Western world following the collapse of the Soviet Union. All fine and well, I suppose; you certainly have to admire the optimism. However - and this may just be a generational gap thing - some of the messages delivered in these songs strike me as New-Agey Boomer platitudes, something that was quite common in adult pop music of the time. Looking back on it now with the benefit (detriment?) of cynical Gen-X hindsight, one can’t help but feel a little embarrassed that all the hope of social and political change of that time never gained much traction. Musically these songs are fine (well, aside from that accordion in Strange Quotations), but whether you enjoy the lyrics or not will probably boil down to personal preference. Interestingly, vocals were seldom utilized by System 7 after this release.

Anyhow, fast-forwarding back to 2008, System 7 is certainly a product of its time, and frankly has a difficult time holding up. It’s seldom mentioned when talk of early 90s releases is taking place, and despite the strong musicianship on display, remains lacking in anything one could identify as ‘classic.’ If you’re in the market for electronic music from that era, you’ll find definite worth in this album. However, for those instead just looking to get acquainted with System 7's discography, the Point 3 releases are a better starting point.

Written by Sykonee for TranceCritic.com, 2008. © All rights reserved

Aphex Twin - Syro

Warp Records: 2014

Hey, remember when there was a new Aphex Twin album? Boy, it sure was an exciting time when that new Aphex Twin album showed up out of nowhere. Everyone got to wax nostalgic about what Aphex Twin's music meant to them again. Music rags got to write up Aphex Twin retrospectives for the fourth or fifth time. Journalists got to pontificate on why Aphex Twin is such a Very Important Person in the world of techno again. Folks were just plain ol' happy to see Aphex Twin active again, even though Richard D. James hadn't left in the first place. And we wouldn’t take him for granted as we did following Druqks, no sir. We’d keep him on that pedestal he earned back in the ‘90s, forever proclaiming the new Aphex Twin album an LP without peer, beyond compare, the best new music now and forever, a- oh, wait, no one’s talking much about Syro anymore, are they. Damn, maybe he should stop flooding his Soundcloud with so much music, let us soak in an actual album for a change.

So Syro: the record with a simple title and a dozen confounding song titles (and a hilarious expenses list that runs for six foldouts!). Rumours abound as to why the RDJ’d One felt compelled to give the world another full-length of music, though as with all things with the man from the lands of Cornish, it was probably all just a whim. Like, did he really need money again? Would Warp Records really pester him to fulfill a record deal? Nah, more plausible he just wanted a chuckle over the salivating reactions at seeing the Aphex Twin moniker reactivated. Nice of him to supply us with a solid album of tunes in the process.

While no two releases from Are Deejay ever sound the same, this does have some similarities to his mid-‘90s work than anything else. There isn’t so much micro-computer editing, drill-n-bassing, or real instrument keyboard doodling, but rather getting a playful groove on, tinkering with some sounds and effects, and riding an electro acid-funk jam wherever it may lead. Considering how much Aphex Twin always sounded weird and alien, it’s odd hearing him doing something that sounds much closer to our earthly realms. True, it’s future-Earth we’re dealing with, but we’re still on good ol’ terra firma just the same. Get some shuffle on with, er, that third track. Or find yourself at a robot junglist party with, um, those last run of tracks. Or feel that throwback rave anthem with the fifth cut.

Look, I’m not gonna’ actually name these tracks. They read like computer gibberish, probably are just some random nonsense Jamesy Boy slapped together, and only gave them ‘proper’ titles so stuffy music journalists would look like bellends trying to write critical prose with Syro u473t8+e [Piezoluminescence Mix] as part of a sentence. Well, I ain’t falling for that, I tell you what.

Anyway, Syro is a good album from Aphex Twin.

Kon Kan - Syntonic

Atlantic: 1990

I’ve been severely neglecting my Canadian content this past month. Better get to it before our new Liberal overlords send me a fair-weather warning of forced patriotism. Wait, do they even care about backwater bloggers? How could they even enforce such a thing? Would they suddenly turn my review of Hot Chip’s DJ-Kicks into something by Arcade Fire? No, they could never be so nefarious. The blues, maybe, but not our boys in red (note: I voted orange). As luck would have it though, I get to meet my monthly Canadian content quota by reviewing an album by a synth-pop act whose name is a play on that quirky bit of legislation, Kon Kan. See, it’s Canadian content, backwards! Eh? Eh? Pah, witty Canuckian humor is lost on all y’alls.

I always remember seeing the name Kon Kan around, though not in any significant way. I mean, they were a Canadian synth-pop act, making dance music at a time when dance music was gaining a fair bit of popularity in the early ‘90s. They’d almost be obligated the occasional guest spot on whatever hip club music show was airing on MuchMusic at the time (X-Tendamix? Might Master T have interviewed Kon Kan at one point? Ooh, you know that’d be some retro YouTubing there). By the time I’d finally immersed myself in ‘techno’ though, they’d already folded as a group. Well, ‘group’ is a stretch of a word, Kon Kan primarily the creation of one Barry Harris. He’d update his sound for the euro dance crowds in the group Outta Control, all the while making underground house records solo and harder stuff with career remixer Chris Cox as Thunderpuss. Mr. Harris has stayed active to this day, and even suggested dusting off the old Kon Kan name with original vocalist Kevin Wynne. Because nothing old stays old, right?

Point being, there’s a lot of history to this name, and is hardly a one-and-done deal despite Kon Kan never getting bigger than their debut, Juno Award winning single I Beg Your Pardon. I sure didn’t know all this when I picked Syntonic out of a used shop. I just recognized the name from a house compilation, and took a chance after a quick listen of the first few tracks. Honestly though, I’m still wondering how that initial impression convinced me to buy this sophomore effort. Yeah, Victorious is undeniably catchy in that New Jack Swing sort of way, but dear Lord so much else on here sounds way dated.

Obviously I can’t expect blinding sonics from a 1990 Canaidan synth-pop album, even one backed by Atlantic Records, but a few tracks do work on those terms. Lead single Liberty! is just as peppy as anything from the Pet Shop Boys, Can’t Stop The Fire gets more to Harris’ house side, andTime is good cheesy italo fun, even if the chorus apes Trooper’s We’re Here For A Good Time. Overall though, Syntonic is just another long forgotten collection of dated dance pop.

The Police - Synchronicity

A&M Records: 1983/2003

“Hey, The Police, you’ve just release your most popular album ever! You’ve redefined the new wave rock movement yet again, and are adored by millions of people across several continents! What are you gonna’ do next?”

“We’re breaking up, because we can’t stand recording with each other anymore.”

Aww, yeah, they went out Beatles style, and in a funny way, Synchronicity is a little similar to Abbey Road too. Side one of both albums has something of a slapdash approach with individual offerings from the band members, whereas the second half plays like a mini-album concept from one member. Er, that’s all I got on the comparison.

But yes, Synchronicity is where The Police became house-hold names and radio staples on every pop station. Everyone knows the ode to obsessive, stalker-ish love, Every Breath You Take. Even if you somehow missed it back when, you definitely heard it after Puff Daddy nicked Andy Summers' plucky guitar hook for the Biggie tribute I'll Be Missing You. Meanwhile, the spiteful Wrapped Around Your Finger (that tempo change!) and moody King Of Pain (it’s like a continuation of Ghost In The Machine!) were not quite as ubiquitous as Every Breath You Take, but are no less recognizable the moment they come within earshot. And though the title track (and fourth single) is way '80s new wave with all the synthesizers and guitar effects at play, it remains a permanent fixture on many retro rock playlists. Not bad for a band that had to scrap its way through the British rock scene a mere seven years prior, and could only manage one instantly identifiable hit per album (Roxanne, Message In A Bottle, Don’t Stand So Close To Me, Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic).

So the singles were huge, getting everyone to rush out and grab what was sure to be a great album. I can only imagine their shock, then, upon hearing that infamous side one of Synchronicity. The titular opener is peppy enough, though not as memorable as Synchronicity II on side two. Walking In Your Footsteps has some neat electronic drum programming, a tribal rhythm that’s clearly inspired by what Peter Gabriel was up to. Next is O My God, a requisite Police new wave jam that’d often serve as filler in other albums, and a weird choice for a third track. And then Mother hits, the wacked-out Andy Summers contribution that sounds like… Arabic prog-rock paranoia? I haven’t a clue, and no one else has either. At least his other song, bluesy Murder By Numbers, has a clever message within its macabre lyrics. Oh, and Stewart Copeland, in an attempt to get back to their punk roots, provides the short, incidental Miss Gradenko. When you compare these tracks to the astounding songs Sting was writing though, it’s no wonder ol’ Gordon felt the need to go solo. Oh, if only folks could have known what was to come from that career. Wait, they did, it’s called Tea In The Sahara.

A Positive Life - Synaesthetic

Beyond/Waveform Records: 1994/1995

Another act from the early days of Beyond, another act that seemingly disappeared shortly after. Stefan Pierlejewski's project as A Positive Life was as vital to the seminal ambient dub label as either Higher Intelligence Agency or Another Fine Day, yet has an even smaller discography than their scarce offerings. Was he unable to find another home after Beyond folded? I'm assuming he maintained some presence out there, playing the odd gig and such. Still, considering how prevalent his name was with the early ambient dub scene, it's bizarre seeing all reference cease with The Lord That Knows All past the mid-'90s. There’s nothing on offer with Mr. Pierlejewski’s pre-Beyond either, essentially starting with the Oscillate nights. For all intents, A Positive Life sprung into existence right from the start, flashed brightly, then went his way into the deep, dark night from whence he came.

As for the music he made, it’s less ambient dub by way of Original Rockers, and closer to Higher Intelligence Agency, though with a heavy lean on acid and trance. Really, A Positive Life always was an odd-man out on the Ambient Dub compilations, his tracks often more uptempo compared to the laid-back vibes and sonic explorations of the deepest dub. His sound was never true-blue trance though, as I can’t possibly imagine hearing this stuff on labels like MFS or Rising High. It’s just too ambient at the same time, but with enough of a hypnotic rhythm to keep me boppin’ about. Dammit, how can something sound so over familiar, yet totally unique? This just don’t make any of the sense, mang.

Synaesthetic is slightly different in its Waveform Records incarnation, tracks rearranged, plus an additional, unreleased one included. Par for the course with Waveform, and as with their other re-releases, this one looks better than the Beyond version. It does a good job of keeping the tempo on a climb as the album plays through before easing off into proper ambient pastures, whereas the original had them all mixed up instead. New track Warehouse 5am serves as a proper warm-up to the A.P.L. stylee, getting you familiar with the simple, loopy nature of his music. There’s burbling acid, ethnic samples, swirling pads, and a sense of dubby bliss as it glides along. Follow-up Bathdub explores much of the same vibe, though comes with a stronger rhythm and more overlaying acid-dub. Both end on the bubbly, floating Aquasonic though, as it they should.

Midway, things get downright groovy with a thick bassline in Lighten Up!, and eerie with spacey acid in Pleidean Communication, but the biggest ‘hit’ off here (re: appeared on all the compilations) is The Calling, co-written with Mr. Pierlejewski’s original project partner, Patrick Morsman. If the opening ambient bleepiness and angelic voice sound familiar, it’s because Michael Cretu nicked it for his Enigma track Out From The Deep. I’ll take the trance thump and squelchy acid of A.P.L. over New Agey guitar strums any day though.

Koichi Sugiyama - Symphonic Suite "Dragon Quest VIII"

Aniplex: 2005

Dragon Quest making its way into the realms of 128-bit power was a bit of a surprise, them consoles almost too powerful for the simple stories and gameplay the series enjoyed. Yuji Horii got around the expectations of stellar graphics and complex plots by presenting the game as a cell-shaded cartoon, a relatively new technique for 3D gaming. It retained the whimsical sprite-based look of Akira Toriyama’s artwork, while offering up an incredibly open world to explore. Deceptively simple, yet remarkably complex, Dragon Quest VIII was more than fans could have hoped for, and helped reinvigorate interest in the series for a new generation of gamers. It was the high times of the Nintendo era all over again!

Even ol' Koichi got to try something new for this game. For the first time, he was crafting music for a gaming system that could handle all the original orchestrated music he wrote, with no compromising to MIDI or soundcard limitations. This allowed him a session that sounded expansive and full, rivalling even his older symphonic suite recordings. After all, if you’re playing a game where you have free range to explore a vast world, you want a score that invigorates that sensation. A recording capturing the echo and reverb of a symphony hall certainly is an effective way of doing that.

Where Dragon Quest VIII’s score excels in sound design though, it unfortunately lacks some in the melody department. For sure, you can still find ample amounts of charming music in that vintage Sugiyama-san stylee. Strange World opens with a lovely bit of harp, soon giving way to flutes, brass, and grand strings, losing yourself in the wide fields of the overworld you explore. ...Remembrances... will tug at your heart as so many of ol’ Koichi’s ‘sad’ pieces do. Healing Power Of The Psalms is an apt title for the game’s church theme, soothing strings granting one a respite from the trials of the road. And yet, there’s very few compositions that actually sticks with the head, a surprising lack of leitmotifs. Heck, I don’t think any of your playable characters get themes to their names, though to be fair that hasn’t been a Dragon Quest staple since the 16-bit era. His compositions here sound more intended for a movie than a video game, which isn’t surprising given the nature of most games of the modern era. Man, what I wouldn’t give to hear some catchy ditties with that hall recording though.

Okay, enough quibbling. Here are a couple cool standouts with this score. Far more percussion is used compared to previous symphonic suites, with a highlight being the blocks and glittering bells of Mysterious Tower. Also, while a standard ‘big boss’ battle theme retains the sluggish tempo of most Dragon Quest games, the final-final boss theme picks the pace up considerably, making for a thrilling battle theme. Not quite as epic as the awesome Fighting Spirit from Dragon Quest III, but it’s right up there!

Koichi Sugiyama - Symphonic Suite "Dragon Quest" Complete CD-Box: Disc 7

SME Visual Works Inc.: 2003

Towards the ends of Dragon Quest III and VI, you encounter a small, sealed off realm. Here resides a population of people kept in perpetual misery, suffering, and depression, which the Archfiends of these games love to feast on (somehow). Through pluck, guile, and a little demon slaying, you rescue these people from their circumstances, overcoming the bitterness consuming their lives. Nice little parables for sure, especially for a series steeped in altruism. So when Dragon Quest made its leap to the Playstation, it took those singular events and spread it for the course of an entire game. Each sealed realm you visit and free restores the world from a single, isolated island like a giant jigsaw puzzle. No, literally! You go around collecting shards, piecing them together, and- Well, no sense revealing everything. I’ll just end with the knowledge this is one long RPG, and one of the bonus bosses is God. Yes, the God, with the flowing white beard, robe, etc.

Ooh, I said ‘end’ in the last paragraph. That can segue into this review, as we’re also at the ‘end’ of this seven disc box set, which features music played at the ‘end’ of the game, specifically during ‘end’ credits. Also, I’ll now ‘end’ these forced quotations.

So you defeated the big bad of the realm, rescued a princess or two, became a legendary hero in the process of fulfilling prophecy. Now you can get back to rebuilding your sacked village, raising a family, and take up the family fishing business. It a funny turn how the triumphant victories of the older Dragon Quest games became more humbling and simple in later editions. Hell, some conclusions come bitter-sweet, no more so than Dragon Quest IV where defeating the villain was an act of necessity brought about by manipulation and betrayal. Have I mentioned how frickin’ awesome that game’s plot is for the 8-bit era? Man, even the Ending (IV) music is ridiculously epic, especially in its fully orchestrated version here. Movies don’t get end credit scores this grand.

That essentially concludes the symphonic suite portion of the box set, but what’s this? Extra room on CD7? Sure, a little of that was taken by the ‘heaven’ compositions at start (Dragon Quest IV through VI centers on a ‘Heaven’ arc, or Zenithia in the original translation), but that still leaves plenty space at the end. Yet there are no more recordings of symphonic suites. What can be used to fill out that gap? Why, original VGM of course!

Two pieces from Dragon Quest VII never got a symphonic upgrade, gypsy folk ditties titled Toura Dance (VII) and Restoration Prayer (VII). Not sure why that is, though I’ve heard rumor ol’ Koichi had difficulty composing them with an orchestral backing. Wait, this from the guy that made symphonic chiptunes? A few more pieces were added to the 32-bit upgrade for Dragon Quest IV, including new mid-boss battle music and a theme for the main antagonists. They’re, um… disappointing.

Koichi Sugiyama - Symphonic Suite "Dragon Quest" Complete CD-Box: Disc 6

SME Visual Works Inc.: 2003

Stateside Dragon Quest fans just couldn't catch a break in the 16-bit era. Denied the fifth game, no hope of seeing the upgrades of the first three 8-bit games, and pretty much shit out of luck on number six of the series, it wasn’t until late in the next generation of gaming that we saw anything new. Even emulation could only take us so far, the games growing more complex with the text dialog. Dragon Quest VI became infamous during those dark times as The Game That Could Not Be Fan Translated. Many attempted the mighty task, some even coming close to completion, but like Dragon Quest V, we’d never see an official version until it made the port to the DS. Shame, because I find the main character’s origin in that game possibly the most creative of all them all (you are not the dreamer, but the dream...).

Disc six finally brings us to the music that soundtracked many a grinding session: battle themes. Every great RPG must have a good battle theme, music that gets you equally pumped fighting the most pathetic Slime to the most dastardly Archfiend. Koichi Sugiyama definitely knows his way around a thrilling composition, standard fight music quick and punchy, with a dash of the ol’ derring-do. He even throws in an occasional twist or two, Death Fight (II) changing time signatures, and Battle For The Glory (IV) working in a crescendo. Okay, that’s common for orchestral music, but this was done with the original Nintendo soundcard too. That just wasn’t done, mang, yet here he done did it!

Though mid-boss battles are a staple of the series since the first game, it wasn’t until Dragon Quest V and the additional MIDI storage of the Super Famicom that Sugiyama-san provided music for these fights. Though they are unique compositions, they’re essentially beefed-up takes of the standard battle music. Meanwhile, the final boss music of Dragon Quest often goes the opposite way, with slow, brooding pieces, thumping kettle drums setting a sluggish pace, as though your final test is a battle of endurance and survival against ancient evils. Makes sense, as most of the final bosses are ancient evils, large demonic behemoths whose steps shake the ground they walk upon. Probably.

The only game to buck this convention is Dragon Quest III. Gruelling Fight, played during your confrontation with the Archfiend Baramos, brings urgent strings, sinister horns, and a refrain that’s all sorts of tense, exciting, and kick-ass. And that’s just the fake-out final boss music! No, the main attraction from this game is Fighting Spirit (III), a medley of the standard battle music (which is great!), an extended interlude of the classic Unknown World played on harp, then all Hell breaks loose for your true final battle. Furious strings, crashing percussion, bombastic horns... holy cow, this piece has it all, and is, by far, the best final boss music in the whole series. How anyone can resist getting hyped listening to it is beyond me.

Koichi Sugiyama - Symphonic Suite "Dragon Quest" Complete CD-Box: Disc 5

SME Visual Works Inc.: 2003

Dragged out of 8-bit land kicking and screaming, Dragon Quest made its debut on 16-bit with V, where better graphics and storytelling were promised. Well, it didn't do much with the Super Famicom's capabilities (not even some Mode 7?), but surely Yuji Horii and his cohorts would give us a grand epic narrative showing the world why the series deserved its amazing success in Japan. Eh, not quite either, the game never getting a localization in America (much less Europe) until the year 2009, die-hards forced into alternative methods to play the game. Fortunately, the world of emulation was blossoming on the early internet, and there was enough Dragon Quest interest to support fan translations of the game.

And while Dragon Quest V didn’t amaze in graphics, it more than made up for it story. Not for the overall plot, mind you, that still relatively standard fare for the series (monsters up to no good, prophesized hero must overcome, etc.). Rather, it was how the narrative bucked convention, your main character’s arc primarily his journey in finding his missing mother. Starting as a young boy travelling with his father, he’ll witness his brutal murder (!), is forced into child slavery (!!), escapes and finds the time to take a wife, discovers he has a lineage of nobility, and yet doesn’t turn out to be the prophesized hero destined to save the world. Mang, that was unheard of in RPGs! Your main character always is the hero! Who is it, then? You don’t find that out until he saves your ass, for your character eventually gets turned to stone and is left to erode for several years. Did I mention this game loves to gut punch your emotions a bunch?

Eh? Oh, right, CD5 of the box set. This one features music played when travelling by other means than foot. Having a sea faring vessel is standard in most RPGs, but your method of flight often varies from game to game. Final Fantasy famously likes airships, and Ultima once used star crafts before the series realized that was daft for a fantasy setting. Dragon Quest, meanwhile, has never settled on a standard mode of air transport. Such means have included a resurrected phoenix, a hot air balloon, a magic carpet, a flying bed (!), a winged horse, and a floating rock vessel. Y’know, for a game series called Dragon Quest, you’d think there’d be more flying on dragons.

Truth be told, I find this the weakest of the CDs. Aside from a few lovely pieces (Heavenly Flight (III), Sea Breeze (IV), Over The Horizon (VII), most of Sugiyama-san’s compositions here meander about with little to hook you in. It does recreate that feeling of an endlessly open world to explore, but I can’t say this is a CD I reach for often. Oh, and I absolutely hate those ship waltzes for Dragon Quest II and III. Too damn goofy, even for a disc with a song titled Flying Bed (VI).

Koichi Sugiyama - Symphonic Suite "Dragon Quest" Complete CD-Box: Disc 4

SME Visual Works Inc.: 2003

Dragon Quest IV was a remarkable game when it came out, one of the last true greats of the 8-bit era. Featuring multiple characters, each had their own 'chapters' before coming together for a final chapter, breaking conventional RPG storytelling in the process. The game even established many tropes folks now take for granted in the genre (hero village sacked, tragic villain, prophecy, etc.). Koichi Sugiyama, already showing amazing finesse with the Nintendo soundcard, outdid himself yet again with this game. I’ve touched on several pieces and themes in the previous CDs of this box set, and I will several more times before we’re done.

While the game remains a favourite for many (*cough*), it unfortunately was way overshadowed by other big RPGs of the time. Final Fantasy IV had made its sexy debut on the Super Nintendo, leaving Dragon Quest IV’s clunky Nintendo graphics well in the dust. Meanwhile, in PC gaming land, Ultima VII: The Black Gate burst forth, proving that series remained top dog of the yard. Still, Yuji Horii wasn’t trying to outdo Lord British’s games, just make simpler versions of them. That, and the dungeon crawling of Wizardry.

Oh yeah, we’re dealing with the ‘dungeon’ disc with CD4 - woot, I can segue like this all day! Any good RPG needs its caves where monsters dwell, hoarding all sorts of treasures to loot. Appropriately, Sugiyama-san composed pieces reflecting ominous shadows, creepy crevices, and claustrophobic caverns. With Dragon Quest II, towers were introduced as another form of monster infested locale, and ol’ Koichi approached this music from a different angle, compositions often urgent in pace, melodies suggesting mischievous shenanigans by whatever devilry may lurk in long abandoned rooms. This feeling of lofty unease was best captured by Screams From The Tower Of Monsters (VII), where sinister plucked strings give way to woozy violins and flutes, every so often interrupted by the echo of horns, as though you’re just hovering at the edge of a thirty foot drop. Watch that final step, wily hero; it’s a loo-loo.

Oops, you fell off and splattered on the ground below. Or fell into a cunning trap by Demonites in that tower. Or crawled too deep into a dungeon, meeting a horrible end at hoards of Horks, or in the den of a dozen Green Dragons (damn you, Road To Rhone). Whatever the case, as the classic Dragon Warrior saying goes, “Thou art dead.”

As these can be a common occurrences in Dragon Quest, Sugiyama-san saw fit to include mournful pieces for those ‘game over’ screens, typically titled Requiem or Elegy. In the first few games, you’d be resurrected by Kings, but later it’d be at churches or shrines with priests (Houses Of Healing with shaman, for the religious-wary early Nintendo games). Such holy havens deserve music worthy of humbling piety, which are provided as counters-points to the various requiems. It marks a rather soothing end to CD4, a blissful contrast to the foreboding tones of the first half.